


Excoriation

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-25
Updated: 2006-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If I give you what you want, will you stop trying to kill yourself?"</i> A character study that might or might not work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excoriation

**Author's Note:**

> Close to fourteen thousand words in something like minus four days. My brain hates me. Thank you to Linaerys and Nansi for giving help and advice (and editing) to this Pooh.

At first, Rodney thought Major John Sheppard was nothing but a big, dumb jock, just like all the other big dumb jocks in the military. He had no time for people who would rather flex their muscles than their brains, and wasn't shy about saying so. But Sheppard kept surprising him, kept saying things and doing things Rodney didn't expect out of a big, dumb jock.  
   
But when Sheppard came back -- without Col. Sumner -- from their first run-in with Wraith, he'd changed, somehow. He was quieter, even less talkative. Rodney had seen Dr. Weir talking with him, had seen Teyla, the bimbette Sheppard had brought back talking with him, had frowned and walked away. Wasn't his area. He was a scientist; he was the ranking scientist on Atlantis, in fact, and had far more interesting things to do than worry about a big, dumb jock who, well, might not be. Completely.

The east pier was quite large and it took Rodney a while but he finally did find Sheppard sitting in a sheltered alcove on a bench, his feet propped up on a railing, a small cooler by his side. He had his radio bud in his ear, but there was no other sound save the beating of the waves and the never-ceasing whoosh of the wind. As it turned out, Sheppard had been haunting the areas of Atlantis which had been flooded early on, because his presence activated certain mechanisms which hastened the recovery of the area to full use. That was the official line; Rodney wasn't certain if it was really Sheppard's thought processes. The man was quite the enigma at times.

Sheppard looked up as Rodney approached and gave him one of his patented, goofy half-grins. It didn't reach his eyes. "Dr. McKay, I presume?"

Rodney put his back to the ocean and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you want me on your team?" he asked.

"Please, come right to the point, Doctor," Sheppard murmured. He reached into the cooler and came out with a carton of juice. "Want some?"

"No thanks. You seem to like me well enough, though I can't fathom why anyone would prefer American football over hockey. But I'm not a fighter, I'm a scientist. I'm certain you would consider me ineffectual in a lot of situations, so I wouldn't necessarily be an asset to your team. In other words, you'll have to explain it to me."

Completely ignoring the bulk of Rodney's words, Sheppard said, "Suit yourself." He popped the cap on the juice carton and took a long drink, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "I miss beer."

Well, that was an interesting conversational vector to take. "I miss a lot of things more than beer." Sheppard acknowledge this with a grimace and nod. "Given that the Mesopotamians and Egyptians were drinking beer at about the time the Ancients were on Earth, I'd say there's a pretty good chance we'll find a way to make it here, eventually."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not." Rodney smirked. "Of course, if we do, it'll be real beer, not the swill you Americans drink."

"Okay, you got me on that one. I'll take a LaBatt's anytime over a Bud." Rodney snorted; of course he would, who wouldn't? "But right now, I'd even take a Red, White and Blue."

"Closet alcoholic?" Rodney asked without thinking, only realizing as he said it that it might be true and might be a slight.

But it wasn't. "Nah. It's just..." Sheppard waved his hand. "It's just one more thing to miss about Earth."

"I keep forgetting you weren't with SGC until recently." Rodney took a deep breath; it was certainly clean out here, nothing to smell but the ocean. It seemed the lab always had the faint miasma of old sweat from scientists too busy for such mundane things as showering. "It is a bit of a stretch, going to a different planet, not knowing who you're going to meet, what you're going to see or do."

"You've been with SGC for a while, then?"

"Couple of years. Of course, this is the first time I've been, ah, _permanently_ off-world. Which of course, leads to other paths of thought, other problems to overcome or get used to." Rodney frowned down at his feet. "In fact, I don't know if it's really sunk in to everyone here that we're not going back. Not for a while, anyway."

"Not unless we find one of those power things."

"A ZedPM. No. Not until." 

Sheppard was silent for a long time, and Rodney, lost in his own thoughts, didn't really notice until he spoke again. "You think we'll find one? I mean, before the Wraith find us?" 

He looked at Sheppard but the man was only squinting at him from the corner of his eyes, not looking straight at him. It was something he'd seen Sheppard do before. He didn't think Sheppard had a lot of command experience. "I don't know," Rodney replied. "I hope so. We're certainly pretty much sitting ducks here unless we do."

"Well, yeah," Sheppard said in a 'duh!' voice. "Which, actually, is why I want you on my team. We need to find one of those things, and we need to find it yesterday. I figure you're the one with the best chance to accomplish that. Even though you are, as Dr. Weir has told me several times, irreplaceable."

"Elizabeth said that about me?" Rodney blinked in surprise and satisfaction. It was always good to know others knew your worth. Which was a big part of why, when Carson offered the experimental gene therapy, Rodney had jumped at it. 

Sheppard had one big advantage over Rodney; the Ancient gene, and Rodney wanted to level the playing ground. He had no way of expecting how much like a kid in a candy store Sheppard would be with him, once they knew it took. Sheppard's enthusiasm was infectious, leading him in all different directions than he normally would have taken, as long as he was protected by his very own personal shield. It might have been Sheppard who offered to shoot him -- in the leg, hardly a disabling injury, he'd said -- but it had been Rodney who suggested being pushed off the balcony. And now here was Sheppard asking for Rodney to be on his team. 

"Don't get measured for a new hat size yet."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "She's only stating the truth. I am irreplaceable." Then, reluctantly, he added, "Of course, it goes for you as well, I suppose."

Sheppard's mouth thinned to a straight line. "No. I'm eminently replaceable. Anybody with a gun would do."

Rodney frowned; there it was again, an odd word choice, a quick but unexpected reaction. There was more to Sheppard than met the eye. "Not just anybody with a gun, you've got the gene. You can fly the gateships--" Sheppard glared at him, "--all right, the puddle jumpers which is the stupidest name in existence, and you're ranking military presence. Plus," Rodney added with a sigh, "you're not a complete imbecile."

"Gee, thanks, McKay. Don't go damning me with faint praise, now." 

"Only stating the truth." Rodney turned and sat. "I think I will have one of those juices. They're not citrus, are they?"

"I should be so lucky," Sheppard replied, taking another carton from the cooler and handing it to Rodney.

"Unless you've been in anaphylactic shock, you can keep your cute comments to yourself." He checked the ingredients carefully before opening it. It was mostly cranberry juice, which was nasty but potable and his blood sugar felt low. "So you only want me for my brain," he said, taking a deep swig. At least it was cold.

"Well, I wouldn't say no if your body came attached," Sheppard drawled and Rodney almost choked.

"Excuse me?"

Sheppard gave him a look that had a smirk hidden in it. "Well, if you insist, I can ask Dr. Beckett if there's a way to take only your head. But it might get a little messy."

For a second there... "Carson would probably try it too, so please don't mention it to him." Sheppard couldn't possibly be coming on to him. He was, after all, in the highly uncivilized American military, where all forms of otherness were literally beaten out during the hell they called 'basic training.' Rodney had seen it in movies.

"Well, hey. We're basically living a B movie here, why not have talking, severed heads? I can see it now, _They Saved McKay's Head!_ " Rodney spluttered in outrage but Sheppard just talked over it. "Hey, you know, I bet if you cut a Wraith's head off, it'd still be alive."

Rodney looked at him in horror. "That is disgusting."

"Of course it is. But don't you wonder about it, the tiniest bit?"

If he did, Rodney would never admit it. "I know you have reason to hate the Wraith, but resurrecting Madame Guillotine is not the way to go."

"Yeah, I have reason to hate them, all right." Once again, Sheppard's mouth narrowed as he muttered his reply. There was a trace of something in his voice that might have been self-loathing and Rodney looked at him curiously.

"We all do, Major."

"Yeah. I know."

But Sheppard had a better reason than any of them, Rodney supposed. The description of the Wraith and how they fed terrified Rodney, caused his gut to clench and even his appetite to go AWOL. He couldn't imagine being in a hive ship, waiting like cattle for the slaughter. "You know," Rodney said, hesitantly, wondering if it was the right thing to say, "I know what happened. Being on the senior staff, and all." He paused but didn't look at Sheppard. "I have to say, if I had been in Sumner's place, I would have wanted you to kill me. I don't think I could... Actually, I know I couldn't..."

"What you did the other day, your 'Hail Mary' play, that took guts." Sheppard's voice was neutral but Rodney still heard an undercurrent of something he desperately wished he could understand. "You saw what had to be done and you just did it. That's the true meaning of heroism, you know, just doing something even though you're shit scared."

Rodney looked down at his hands, shamed by Sheppard's matter-of-fact words. He had been so frightened he wondered why he hadn't shit in his pants, actually. "I always thought a hero was someone who got other people killed."

Sheppard drained the last of his juice, took his feet from the railing and leaned forward, rolling the carton in his hands. "Yeah, well, that's one way to look at it."

Rodney couldn't figure the man out and he hated an unsolved puzzle. He was obsessive that way. A puzzle was meant to be solved. Therefore, he would solve it.

But this wasn't quantum physics or even a simple combustion engine. And Rodney had never scored very high on interpersonal relations, it just wasn't in his nature. So when he spoke, he did so slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. Sheppard was a good guy, and he seemed to be hurting. "I'm... not in the military, I wouldn't be the military type, even in my wildest dreams."

Sheppard snorted and there was that half-grin thing again, though he wouldn't look at Rodney. "So I don't really understand the mentality involved. I can't, for example, see why anyone would get themselves into a situation so dangerous they could get killed. And why they would do it willingly."

"Just a job, McKay," Sheppard said quietly.

"No, I don't think so. It's like saying I'm kind of smart." Sheppard snorted again and nearly laughed, but Rodney ignored it. "I mean, you have to be close to the people you command, the people who command you, right? And yet, they might die at any moment. You could be standing right next to them and they might die and you might live." He turned and looked at Sheppard, who was still leaning his elbows on his knees, his face turned away. "Right?"

After a moment, Sheppard said, "Yeah."

"So how do you reconcile it? How do you stay sane? What do you _do_?"

Slowly, Sheppard's head came up, but he didn't turn towards Rodney; instead, he focused on something only he could see beyond the railing. "I don't know. Everybody's different, we all handle things like that in a different way."

"How do you handle it?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I don't know. Get drunk. Throw up. Have sex. Isn't that the 'manly' thing to do?"

"You're asking me?"

"Sure. What do you do, when you or a colleague screws up? Or is science a sport for one?"

"When a colleague screws up, we generally break out the champagne," Rodney said with a grimace of distaste. "It's not so much a sport for one as it's dog-eat-dog. If the other team wins, you know it's the kiss of death."

"Ah. So, not so much with the puns on Planck's Constant or making fun of Brian Greene's IQ, huh?"

Rodney stared at Sheppard. "Tell me you haven't read any of Greene's drivel."

"Well... the first one." He was obviously having a tough time holding a smirk back.

Sighing, Rodney said, "If you wish to read about physics, I can recommend several other books that would actually illuminate the subject, rather than compare it to a ludicrous cartoon TV show."

"S'okay," Sheppard said, his grin finally blossoming fully. "How about I'll leave the physics up to you and just stick to flying and shooting."

"That's probably for the best," Rodney agreed.

They fell silent for a long moment, and Rodney found he was appreciating the quiet. Strange; he felt more alone while sitting with Sheppard than he did while working late in an empty lab. Or maybe 'alone' wasn't the right word to use. He couldn't figure out the right word.

"So, what do scientists do when they win?" Sheppard asked, breaking the silence. "I mean, is there more than just sleep as a reward for being a good little physicist?"

"Of course there is," Rodney said mildly, surprised at how mellow he was becoming. "A lot of people don't understand how hard it is to work under the gun like we do. It's a very stressful environment -- publish or perish, and while you're at it, come up with a few more ways to save the galaxy and meanwhile, teach a hundred fifty clueless undergraduates. There's an awful lot of drinking and sex going on in the halls of science, my friend, and for good reason."

"Oooh, do tell," Sheppard says in a voice that made Rodney chuckle. "Though I have heard of women scientists catching the upside of being a minority in their chosen fields."

Rodney grinned at the direction their conversation was going. "Hey, any port in a storm and it isn't just women. When you've been working with someone for a long time, sex can feel like just another argument, another debate. You work with people so closely it's like they're your second skin or something. And anyway, sometimes, a warm body is all you need." Sometimes, though, you do want more, need more, Rodney added in his head, trying hard not to think of Radek. Or Sam.

Sheppard was silent so long Rodney finally turned to look at him. Sheppard was staring at Rodney in a speculative and wholly different way, a way that made Rodney want to squirm. He suppressed the urge. "What?"

After still being silent for a while longer, Sheppard finally asked, softly, "You're bisexual?"

Rodney frowned. "Yes, why?" Then the penny dropped -- Sheppard was American. "Oh, yes, I forget, the incredibly homophobic U. S. of A., where anyone different is immediately suspect." He snorted in derision, then added in his best facile voice, "Whereas in Canada, it's been legal for _anyone_ to marry whoever they want for, hmm... how many years has it been now?"

"Hey, Canada's not that homogenous, and not every province is Quebec," Sheppard said, quickly.

"Thank God for small favors. So, still want me on your team even though I prefer hockey to football and occasionally fuck men?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Rodney frowned. Sheppard was still looking at him, staring at him as though assessing. What he was assessing, Rodney wasn't sure. "I don't know. You tell me."

"I still want you on my team. You're insufferable, rude and can have a very foul mouth -- and I'm not talking about swearing -- but you're also brilliant and insightful and I have a feeling you'll get the job done, no matter what." Rodney frowned, talk about a back-handed compliment! He was absolutely _not_ rude. But Sheppard wasn't done. "And, in the spirit of equal disclosure, I guess I should tell you I occasionally like to be fucked by men."

Sheppard was bisexual? Sheppard liked to be... Rodney found himself without words, something that hadn't happened in a while. 

"Surprised, Dr. McKay?" Sheppard drawled, and now his look held something else which didn't bear close scrutiny.

"A little," Rodney admitted. "You are, after all, a military person in a closed society consisting of repressed and repressing role models. It rather astonishes me you've attained the rank you have, if you're actively bisexual."

"You'd be surprised, McKay. You'd be surprised." 

Well, he _had_ often wondered about Daniel and General O'Neill, though he supposed O'Neill's rank offered him some protection. "Maybe not so much," he murmured, frowning out at the ocean.

They were silent again for a long moment, Rodney shifting gears and Sheppard -- well, whatever Sheppard did behind his eyes was his own business. Rodney finally lifted the carton of juice to take a sip and realized it was empty.

"All out, McKay," Sheppard said and Rodney turned to him. "No more left."

"Oh, sorry, I had your last one."

"S'okay." Now Sheppard's eyes were hooded, like a cobra's. "You can make it up to me another way, if you'd like."

Rodney didn't pretend to misunderstand. "What, here? Now?"

"If you want." Sheppard certainly didn't sound like he was kidding, though Rodney couldn't believe he'd be quite that open about it.

"Aren't we a little exposed, here? And I didn't bring anything, I don't just go wandering around carrying supplies with me all the time."

"You mean a condom? I'm clean. I assume you are too."

"I am, but there's more to it than just a condom."

"It's hardly my first time. It'll be fine."

There it was again, the strangeness, the _wrongness_ which sometimes happened when Sheppard spoke. Rodney had the feeling he was missing something big but couldn't put his finger on it. The strange eagerness, the offer -- which parts of Rodney found altogether too appealing -- out of the blue. "You sure we won't be interrupted?"

"You fishing for ways to get out of it, McKay?"

Instead of answering, Rodney just leaned in and took Sheppard's mouth with his own, gathering Sheppard's weird hair in one hand wrenching his head forward. Sheppard fought back -- for fighting this was, though Rodney didn't know why -- kissing Rodney with an almost brutal strength as his own hands clutched at Rodney. They wrestled for supremacy, kicking the innocent cooler out of the way when it became a roadblock. Sheppard's skin under his black t-shirt was fevered, and Rodney's hand as it swept across Sheppard's wiry frame raised goose-bumps in its wake.

Sheppard wasn't muscle-bound; his strength was more like Rodney's, only lean where Rodney had a bit too much fat. And his skin was sweet and salty, with little dark hairs sprouting everywhere, not just on his head. Rodney had often wondered what kind of body was beneath those skin-tight black t-shirts, not that the shirts left much to the imagination. He'd just never thought he'd find out, not like this, anyway.

Getting into Sheppard's pants proved too difficult while sitting. With a frustrated noise (why did BDU fastenings have to be so damned difficult to open?), Rodney stood and pulled Sheppard up after him, still kissing, biting, gasping, pinching and pulling, still moving almost beyond conscious thought. With a shove, Rodney pushed Sheppard into the wall next to their bench, following immediately, grunting as his body slammed against Sheppard's. They were both hard.

Rodney had the mass but Sheppard had the muscle and experience; with a shove and a twist, he had Rodney backed into the wall and his trousers undone. Before Rodney could breathe, Sheppard was on his knees before him, swallowing him down.

'Sheppard was really good at giving head' was Rodney's first thought as he fought for air, watching Sheppard watching him. His second was unless Sheppard let go soon, it would be game over. Whatever the hell Sheppard was doing with his tongue was probably illegal in several galaxies.

Grabbing a handful of Sheppard's ridiculous hair again (why were some people blessed with so damn much hair when it seemed Rodney's had been receding since before he hit puberty?), Rodney tipped Sheppard's head back. "Stop," he gasped.

With one last, obscene slurp, Sheppard released him. Without a word, he rose, unbuttoned and unzipped and dropped his BDUs and boxers around his ankles. His cock was long and not as thick as Rodney's, but not bad either. Once Sheppard apparently felt Rodney had enough of a chance at looking, he gently shouldered Rodney out of the way. Rodney found it hard to keep breathing normally once Sheppard put his hands high on the wall and leaned in, spreading his legs as far as they would go, still tangled in clothing. The last look he gave Rodney over his shoulder was searing hot.

"Jesus," Rodney muttered, using his hands to caress and knead Sheppard's ass. It was a sweet ass, too, firm and tight and Rodney was willing to bet the rest of it was tight too. Rodney stuck two fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, getting them good and wet before sliding them in Sheppard's crack, seeking for and finding the entrance to Sheppard's body, gently breaching it. It was tight; in fact it was too tight. Sheppard took a deep breath as Rodney pressed in and released it slowly, relaxing the internal muscles a bit but not enough, they needed lube. Spit wasn't going to cut it, not in this situation.

"Just do it, McKay," Sheppard gasped, thrusting himself back on Rodney's fingers.

"You're too tight," Rodney hissed, his left hand pressing into Sheppard's hip hard enough to leave bruises. "I'll... I'm going to hurt you..."

"Do it, McKay." Sheppard's voice was rough and hard and desperate, and Rodney gently pulled his fingers out, still unhappy but too desperate himself. He wanted in.

He spit on his hand and tried to slick himself up, using that and the pre-cum almost dripping out of his dick but he knew it wasn't enough. Lining himself up, he began to gently press in, keeping his grip on Sheppard's hip to keep the man from pushing back, impaling himself. It was too damn tight!

"Goddammit, McKay, please..." Sheppard groaned, and Rodney nearly came at the sound.

"This isn't right," Rodney mumbled. He held still somehow, just inside Sheppard's body and his clenching channel. He wanted nothing more than to shove in, to take what Sheppard was offering, to just use that long, rangy body until he... "No. Damn you, no." Rodney reached around grabbed Sheppard's dick; it was almost limp. "You fucker. No way am I..." So interpersonal relationships wasn't Rodney's strong point -- it didn't take a genius in the soft sciences to understand what was happening. Sheppard tried to push back on Rodney's dick but it was already softening at Rodney's realization. "You lousy fucker. You are not using me to punish yourself."

"What the hell are you talking about, McKay?" Sheppard was trembling, a fine motion Rodney could barely feel. It only proved he was right.

Pulling away briefly, enough to get his cock out of the way, Rodney slammed his whole body into Sheppard's, pinning him against the wall. "You want to fuck? Fine. You want me to hurt you, so you can get whatever guilt you feel you have out? Find another patsy, Sheppard. I will not hurt you."

"You're full of shit, McKay, I have no idea what you're--"

"Like hell. You don't want pleasure, you want pain."

"Maybe I do! What the hell difference does it make--"

"Because I won't hurt you! I won't make you bleed! You don't want pain as a part of pleasure, you want pain as part of your stupid punishment. And that's not right, Major. You are not going to use me as your stick."

The fine trembling was getting stronger. "McKay... that's not what I... It's not like that..."

"Keep lying to yourself, Sheppard, if you want. But I will not hurt you." Rodney backed away from Sheppard's body reluctantly. Parts of him still wanted inside Sheppard, and he resolutely told them to go to hell. 

With a quick movement, he pulled up his boxers and pants, fastening them as he stepped further away from Sheppard, who still stood against the wall, his forehead pressed against the rough surface. McKay couldn't see his face and wanted to grant him that much privacy from his pain and shame. "I want to be on your team, Major Sheppard. But I want to be on _your_ team, not because you're ranking military officer or the best shot or the best one to keep me away from the bad guys. I want to be on your team because you're the best man in Atlantis, maybe even in the SGC. But hell, what do I know? I'm just a stupid scientist, not a military type. All I see is a good man, a strong man, someone who deserves the acclaim he gets. Not someone who needs punishment."

Rodney scooped up the cooler and backed further away. Sheppard still hadn't moved. "Look me up when you want something more than pain, Major," Rodney said quietly, trying to convey his feelings as much as he could. "I'm sorry, but I won't do that to you. I respect you and like you too much."

Turning, Rodney left the sheltered space and headed back to his lab and his work. He didn't look back.

* * *

By the end of the day, Sheppard had submitted his final team list to Weir. He'd named Rodney as well as the little puppy Ford, and Teyla, who had proven herself less a bimbette and more of an asset. She was still shockingly undereducated, though Rodney supposed that made sense.

Neither of them talked about the episode on the east pier, not for a long time.

They started going on missions. Gradually, Rodney lost his abject terror of the Wraith, sublimating it until it was only a mildly hysterical fear. He still wished they'd never encountered the things but since they had, there was no going back. He'd have to find a way to deal. 

Because he was so involved with his own problems, it took him several trips to notice what Sheppard was doing. Every time they returned from a mission, Sheppard was hurt. It wasn't always a large, noticeable wound, but Sheppard was being wounded far too frequently for a man of his ability. Even non-military Rodney could see that.

Rodney felt his suspicions were confirmed when Sheppard proposed going back to the planet where they had first encountered a Wraith hive ship, where Sumner had died. It made no sense to Rodney to even think about going back there but Sheppard argued there was more intel which could be scored and the more they knew about their enemy, the better off they'd be.

He knew Weir, Teyla and Ford were looking at him oddly as his argument with Sheppard grew louder. As far as Rodney could tell, it was just another suicide attempt by a man who felt he needed punishment. Elizabeth finally cut their shouting off with one quiet word, "Enough." She looked between them. "Gentlemen, I'm not sure what's going on here, but fix it, and fix it fast. You have a mission and are clear to leave as soon as you're ready." She all but glared at Sheppard. "Every care must be taken, Major."

"Understood." With one last angry look at Rodney, Sheppard rose and stalked out.

Weir turned from watching Sheppard. "Rodney--"

"Don't. Please." Rodney glanced up from his keen examination of the table to look at her briefly. "It's kind of private and we will work it out."

"See that you do." Weir stood and left the room, leaving Teyla and Ford to carefully avoid looking at Rodney. After a few moments, he stood without a word and returned to his lab.

Sure enough, they found themselves beating a hasty retreat, returning with a medical emergency which, of course, involved Sheppard. Rodney had to struggle to keep from either yelling at Sheppard for being such an idiot or melting into an hysterical puddle from looking at the horrible bug attached to Sheppard's neck. Thirty-eight minutes seemed like both an eon and a nanosecond.

When Sheppard told Ford to hit him with the defibrillator, it was all Rodney could do to keep from throwing his tablet at Sheppard's head. Of _course_ , kill me to save the team, there's nothing else for it. Beckett's agreement with Sheppard didn't do much to calm Rodney's anger. 

And his anger sustained him through their return to Atlantis, through seeing Sheppard revived, seeing him on the bed in the infirmary, looking like death warmed over and almost unhappy he was still alive. Rodney managed to keep his anger contained enough to make a few snide comments before leaving, shaking so hard he was amazed it didn't show up on the seismometer. 

He tried to sleep; it didn't work. He tried to work; that didn't either. He resorted to pacing around Atlantis, ignoring everyone and everything as he struggled with his feelings. Finally, he went to the mess hall to eat breakfast, have a couple of cups of coffee and, intending on returning to his lab found himself, instead, outside the infirmary. 

Sheppard's bed was empty.

It took Rodney a while to find Beckett and another while to be calm enough to ask for Sheppard's whereabouts in a rational manner.

"Checked himself out, he did," Carson told Rodney. He grimaced. "The bloody fool. Said he was fine."

Of _course_ he did. "Why did you let him?" Rodney demanded. 

"How could I have stopped him? He's ranking military--"

"I know that! Couldn't you have, I don't know, chained him to the bed or something?"

Carson looked at him strangely. "Aye, I could have, if we had chains in the infirmary, which we don't. At least Dr. Weir knows he's back at his quarters and is having him watched. If he tries anything, he'll wind up back here so fast his head'll spin."

"Goddamn fool," Rodney muttered, shoving the heel of his hand against his forehead. 

"Aye, he is that. Are you going to see him?"

Well, he might as well. Maybe... "Yes. I am."

"Good." Carson waved him over to the small infirmary refrigerator. He took two cans of protein drink out and gave them to Rodney. "See to it he drinks one right away, and give him the other for an hour or so later."

"Jesus, Carson, these taste like shit."

"I don't care if they do, get at least one of them in him. He's weak enough where you wouldn't even have to get a couple of marines to help you."

Sighing and nodding an agreement, Rodney left the infirmary, wondering why he was going to Sheppard's quarters. It wasn't like the damn idiot would listen to what he had to say, after all. But as he walked, a plan began to form in his mind and by the time he reached Sheppard's rooms -- first making a quick detour to his own -- he realized it might be the best thing he could do. Perhaps a win-win situation could be dragged from this whole mess after all.

When Sheppard answered his pounding knock and bellow, Rodney almost gaped in dismay. Major Sheppard was wearing a ratty pair of sweatpants, one size too big so they were hanging off his hips, and nothing else. There were still two large burn marks on his chest from the defibrillators, the bandage around his throat was spotted with blood, there were dark rings under his eyes and his hair was even worse than usual. He looked...

"You look like shit."

"Thank you Dr. McKay, for that insightful comment," Sheppard replied wearily. He leaned heavily against the door jamb.

Taking a deep breath, Rodney said, "If I give you what you want, will you stop trying to kill yourself?"

Sheppard blinked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Rodney pushed him into his room, and it was a testament to the fact that Sheppard belonged in the infirmary how easy it was to do so. Sheppard was weaving on his feet. "You are such an idiot," Rodney muttered, half pushing, half supporting Sheppard to his bed, where they both sat. 

"Not going to argue with a genius," Sheppard murmured, slumping.

"Look, Major, I can give you what you want. If I do, will it keep you from this ridiculous suicide binge you seem to be on?"

It took Sheppard a moment to focus on Rodney. When he did though, his focus was complete. "You said you wouldn't do that."

"I won't be your father confessor or your torturer, no. But I can..." Rodney took a big breath, blowing it out slowly with his words. "I can give you pain. I won't _hurt_ you, but I can make sure you'll feel it in the morning." He swallowed. "Will it be enough?" Please say yes, Rodney added in his head. He couldn't stand watching Sheppard try to do to himself damage. "While you think about it, drink this."

Sheppard looked at the can with a grimace of distaste, but immediately broke the seal and sucked it down. "Ugh, that's nasty."

"Yes, they are." But at least he drank it. He wasn't completely gone.

Rodney fished the condom and tube of lube out of the pocket of his jacket, where he'd stored them. He held them up for Sheppard to see. "I'm ready if you are." And to Rodney's surprise, he was ready, ready and willing and able and hard enough to pound nails. Part of him was enthusiastic at the idea, at least. 

Sheppard swallowed hard and coughed. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say, but by the bulge in his sweats, he would give in. "Okay," he finally said, his voice rough. With nothing more to say, he stood, shoved his sweats down and off, and stretched out on the bed, face down.

"Christ you're stupid," Rodney muttered under his breath, rising and stripping. It was kind of hard to get the zipper in his pants down without damaging himself, but he managed. He put the condom and lube on the small table next to Sheppard's bed, then climbed on it, turning Sheppard over to his back, first, then lying mostly on top of him, being careful of the burn marks. "So damn stupid."

Sheppard opened his mouth to speak but Rodney cut him off by kissing him. And they were off, just like that, back up to the fever pitch they'd started at weeks ago. Sheppard grappled with him, roughly trying to taste or bite or feel every inch of Rodney, writhing with a desperation Rodney found almost familiar. Rodney kept trying to gentle him, brushing his hair out of the way and holding his head in order to kiss Sheppard deeply, trying for more. 

But Sheppard wouldn't stay still, wouldn't let Rodney do what he wanted to do. With a blast of insight, Rodney realized they really were fighting, and to Sheppard, somehow, fighting and fucking had become synonymous. The satori profoundly saddened him and he resolved to find a way to re-train Sheppard so perhaps he could actually enjoy sex, some day.

That was for later. Now, he had a mission. 

Hauling himself away from Sheppard's all-too-delicious mouth, Rodney grabbed the man's right hand, then his left, wrenching them up and pinning them over Sheppard's head, elbowing the pillow to the floor. He ignored the wince of pain from the pulling of the burns; Sheppard wanted this, he reminded himself. "Keep your goddamned hands there," he muttered to Sheppard. That did it -- Rodney watched as Sheppard's eyes widened then closed to slits. His hands formed into fists but he didn't move them and Rodney thought he'd probably enjoy restraints too. Something to try later, perhaps.

Rodney pinned Sheppard's legs down as well, using his own as leverage. Then he leisurely made his way down Sheppard's torso, biting and licking, avoiding the burns but giving everything else close attention. Sheppard's nipples were extremely sensitive and he filed the tidbit away for later.

When he reached Sheppard's dick, he looked it over, inhaling and enjoying the clean male scent of it. He heard Sheppard gasp and realized he was trembling again. Looking up at Sheppard's face, Rodney saw raw desperation and lust and he nodded to himself before sucking Sheppard's dick down his throat.

There's an art to giving head and Rodney had never been a connoisseur, especially with the big ones like Sheppard's. He got by, though, and apparently he was doing pretty well; Sheppard's cock got even harder and his balls drew up nice and tight. Releasing Sheppard, he deliberately looked up, caught Sheppard's gaze and gave one hard tug to his balls, both derailing orgasm and creating more than a little discomfort, if the grimace on Sheppard's face was anything to go by.

"Roll over." The room had been silent save for their harsh breathing, and Rodney's voice was shocking and he almost jumped at his own hoarse words. "Keep your hands where they are, though."

At least Sheppard could follow orders in bed, Rodney thought. He turned over, with a little help from Rodney, and immediately tried to rise to his knees. Rodney slapped him hard on one buttock. "Stay down until I tell you."

Sheppard jumped then froze. He grabbed handfuls of the bedspread, twisting them in his fists tightly, until his knuckles turned white. Rodney reached out and grabbed the condom and lube, putting them close at hand before caressing the tight ass before him. "You've got the best ass in the Pegasus galaxy," Rodney murmured. Sheppard snorted, the noise muffled because his face was pressing into the mattress. "Don't believe me? I don't particularly care if you do."

Parting Sheppard's cheeks, Rodney dove down and began an all-out assault on the entrance to Sheppard's body. He loved rimming, loved how it felt to give and to receive, loved to hear the needy noises it created, loved knowing how insane it drove the recipient. Sheppard was no different. After a brief, shocked pause, the trembling started up again, this time more pronounced. 

Rodney kept at it until Sheppard's hole was nice and wet, nice and loose, before opening the lubricant and slicking up three fingers. Three was a lot, but his nails were short and he knew Sheppard would want the little pain it would cause him. 

He did. Rodney pressed in three fingers, twisting them and spreading the lube around, and could feel the channel spasm around him. It must have been causing more than a little discomfort and yet Sheppard was still breathing harshly, still trembling. Rodney didn't check, didn't want to check, but he bet Sheppard was either hard as a rock or flaccid. Either way, he was getting what he wanted. What he, apparently, needed.

Rodney took his time, spreading lots and lots of lube but mostly using just one finger, pressed deep. He would not risk tearing Sheppard, but he wouldn't make it easy on him either. Before he normally would have done it, Rodney smoothed the condom on (after giving his own balls a tug to calm down) and began pressing inside.

Sheppard took a ragged breath and his whole body clenched, hard. Rodney steeled himself and didn't let it stop him from pushing further. He pulled out after a moment to add more lube to the condom, but dove back in as fast as he could, pushing a little farther. 

After another moment, he pulled out again, this time situating himself better and pulling Sheppard's hips up. "Keep your hands out of the way," Rodney growled before one last, long shove, all the way in. He didn't stop to let Sheppard become more accustomed to him; instead, he immediately began a driving, pounding rhythm, as hard as he could while still managing to keep off the lip of climax. 

God, it was so damn good. Sheppard was writhing beneath him, the occasional whimper getting out, but Rodney ignored it all. Clenching his jaw, he kept pounding, kept trying to hold back his climax. Just before it was inevitable, he stopped, and it might have been the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"No... no... Christ, McKay... don't stop now..."

"You stupid jock," Rodney gasped, backing away from the brink by the skin of his teeth. "You developmentally challenged," he pushed back inside, hard, "emotionally stunted," he pulled back out and slammed back in, the edge once again coming up fast to meet him, "repressed son of a bitch..."

There it was, the cliff edge rushing up to meet him and he went flying, soaring over it in a wash of ecstasy tinged with the sharpest grief Rodney had ever known. 

Climax plus a sleepless night plus an adrenaline day before it conspired to put Rodney out for the count. Before he did, he managed to get off Sheppard, who was also mostly asleep and very pliable, on his side. He rescued the condom and threw it somewhere -- he'd get it when he woke -- and retrieved the pillow, shoving it under both their heads. 

The last thing he did before sleep was reach around Sheppard and feel for his cock. It was flaccid and there was no sign of orgasm. Rodney carried his sadness with him into slumber.

* * *

They developed an unspoken agreement; Sheppard would stop with the grandstanding, the do-or-die (or do-AND-die) stunts as long as Rodney would give him what he appeared to need. The rough, fighting sex seemed to be it, though Sheppard almost never came, not with Rodney -- the one time he did, he was almost surprised by it and it never happened again. Rodney didn't want to ask to whether Sheppard was finding his release in other areas, but he figured it was so, hopefully masturbation because the thought of Sheppard with anyone else, male or female, made Rodney shake with anger and fear. 

Sometimes all it would take was a look between them -- Sheppard would be about to propose something stupidly reckless and he'd look at Rodney, who would roll his eyes or clench his jaw. Sheppard would give him the half-smile that never reached his eyes and back off from the stupid. As far as deals went, it wasn't bad. Rodney was getting fairly regular sex (mostly after rough missions and he had to face facts, most of their missions were rough) and was assured Sheppard would do his best to stick around for the long run. It worked, and what's more, it did not carry over into their official capacities aside from increasing their camaraderie and strengthening the bonds of the team.

So why did it make him so damned sad all the time?

Once, when Rodney came to Sheppard to burn off his frustration over the Hoffan's deliberate obtuseness, he saw bruises on Sheppard he knew he had not put there. Sheppard had pulled his shirt off over his head and must have seen something in Rodney's expression, because he instantly froze, leaving the shirt dangling from one finger. "What?"

"Who... who gave you those?" Rodney let his hands drift over Sheppard's ribs and shoulders. 

"It was... uh... Teyla. She's teaching me how to fight."

" _She's_ teaching _you?_ " The notion was absurd. Teyla was a good fighter but hardly of Sheppard's caliber.

"Yeah... the Athosians have these... well, they're... sticks. And they've got this cool fighting style going on, it's almost like dancing, or a martial art mixed with ballroom. She's teaching me. Well, she's mostly kicking my ass, but that's where they came from." Sheppard's gaze held something which might have been trepidation. "Why?"

Rodney was torn. A big chunk of him wanted to say, you are _mine_ , no one else gets to touch you, not the way I do! He wanted to shove Sheppard back against the wall and stake his claim, make sure everyone in the universe knew who Sheppard belonged to. He wanted to thump his goddamn chest and assert his testosterone-driven manliness over everyone who could see Major John Sheppard.

Another big part of him wanted the whole sordid thing to stop, wanted to find out what it would be like to make love to John Sheppard, the man. Wanted for the whole tired charade to end, one way or the other but preferably in a stable, honest, _equal_ relationship, a true give and take instead of give and give and give. 

Instead, he just shook his head. "Go lie down," he said, kicking off his boots.

* * *

The Genii bastards were gone, the storm was past, personnel had mostly returned and Rodney no longer felt like a drowned rat. The adrenaline high was beginning to leave him but it was fine, he could eat and crash and all would be right with the world again. Once again, Rodney McKay had saved the day, just like he always did, like he always -- hopefully -- would.

After giving his final report to Elizabeth, Rodney and Sheppard went to the mess hall to eat. Rodney felt like he hadn't eaten in days and was ready for a big, comfort food laden meal. Sheppard sat with him as Rodney grabbed a huge breakfast -- all right, so it was the middle of the day and he intended on sleeping after eating, but it was still breakfast. His arm throbbed.

Looking at the crowded tray, Sheppard lifted one eyebrow. "What, no coffee?"

"I fully intend to sleep after this," Rodney replied, digging into his much-stuffed omelet.

"You're not going to be able to sleep after _that_ ," Sheppard said with a incredulous look. "You're going to be too full to lie down." He tucked into his own food, his normal grease fest of artificial chicken fried steak and fries.

"You underestimate me, sir," Rodney said in his best haughty voice.

"Not usually."

Rodney froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Excuse me?"

Sheppard had to swallow before he could talk further and his eyes were almost dancing. "I just mean you usually come through. I have a tendency to expect miracles now and I kinda think it's mostly your doing."

"Well." Rodney blinked. "Thank you." Why did it so odd to receive such a glowing commentary from Sheppard? "And I have a favor to ask, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'd like you to teach me how to shoot. Well, handle a gun. Better. I'm not very good. I think I should learn how to do it." Rodney sighed. "It just seems like life here in Pegasus is getting more and more dangerous, and I should learn how to handle myself better."

Sheppard had a strange look on his face. "You don't need to do that, you know. You're a scientist, no one is expecting you to fight, too."

"But I always end up doing so, don't I?" He looked down at the remains of his breakfast, using his bread to scoop up the last of the omelet and vegetables. "And it seems more and more like it's just you and me. I need to be able to back you up, if you need it."

Sheppard didn't speak, didn't move for a long time, staring at Rodney with that strange look on his face. "You sure about this, Rodney?"

Rodney blinked. He could count on one hand the number of times Sheppard had called him by his first name -- okay, maybe two hands. But he'd never done so in a voice so soft, so worried. "Yeah, I am," he replied, as softly as Sheppard had spoken.

Nodding, Sheppard started eating again. "Okay. Tomorrow good for you? I can meet you at the makeshift range we've got at lunch. You know where it is?"

"Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me. Gives me a chance to sleep, for about twenty hours straight. That should do it." 

They finished their meals in companionable silence, letting the normal sounds of Atlantis wash over them. Sheppard finally pushed his plate back with a sigh. "You did good, by the way."

"Huh?" Rodney finished the last of his juice.

"With that Genii bastard. You did all the right things."

"No, I didn't," Rodney protested. He rubbed his arm, which still throbbed. "I'm a terrible liar."

"Yeah, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, well, unless you're a professional poker player. Elizabeth told me how you stepped in front of her when Kolya threatened to shoot her."

"Well, I stepped out of the way pretty damn quickly too." Not his finest hour.

Sheppard made a frustrated noise. "Would you just shut up and let me compliment you?"

"Is that what you're trying to do?" Rodney felt almost light-headed; he must be _really_ tired. Nothing was making a lot of sense any longer, and he knew he'd better hit his bed soon or hit the deck-plates.

Rolling his eyes, Sheppard said, "Yes!" 

"Sorry, I'll let you talk then. But if anybody should be doling out compliments, it should be us to you. You were incredible. Rambo should be so good."

"Don't you start comparing me with bad actors again, McKay." They both chuckled and Rodney propped his head up in his hand. Sheppard was really a good-looking man, especially when he was being serious. He got all... serious and grave and it changed his face in ways Rodney kind of liked. "It's... not easy having to make the hard decisions," he was saying when Rodney wrenched himself back to the present. "You did the right thing." Sheppard was staring at him quite intently and Rodney abruptly decided he wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was going. Compliments were fine, but this...

"What hard decisions?"

"The command type ones. The ones where you know you may have to sacrifice one or two for the sake of all. Those kind."

Rodney licked his lips nervously, suddenly aware of his surroundings and their conversation. He lifted his juice glass then noticed it was empty. "Well..." He paused. "I can imagine, it must be true. But that's why I leave the hard decisions up to you or Elizabeth."

"Not all of them," Sheppard replied quietly. "You were prepared to make the hard decisions yesterday. And if you had, if you'd had to sacrifice..."

Suddenly it all crashed down on Rodney, as much as the storm-surge would have crashed on and crushed Atlantis. Carson. Teyla. In the unsheltered, unprotected parts of Atlantis which became virtual  high-tension electrical wires. Lightning had filled those corridors, he knew it, he'd not only set it up he'd seen the burn marks on the walls and floors and ceilings. Anyone caught in those hallways would have been...

Abruptly, the food he'd eaten turned on him and he felt like he was going to heave. With one last frantic look at Sheppard, Rodney stood, shoving his chair back so suddenly it crashed to the floor, and fled to his rooms.

He didn't realize Sheppard was following him until he made it to his bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the commode, retching and shaking, then suddenly felt large, warm hands on the back of his neck and shoulder. 

"It's okay," Sheppard crooned, kneeling next to Rodney, encouraging him to lean into his warm bulk. "It'll be okay." 

The taste of bile was strong in Rodney's mouth and his stomach purely refused to settle down. "I... I..."

"I know." 

With a jolt, Rodney realized Sheppard really did know, must know, how it was to send men and women under his command to almost certain death. No wonder the guy was ripped up inside. 

Finally, it was over, there was nothing left to bring up. Sheppard got him a cup of water and used a cool, wet cloth on his face. Rodney was shaking and shaken, still wondering how he managed to avoid thinking about what he had almost done. "You told me, give them two minutes," he croaked at Sheppard, whose face was twisted in sympathy.

"I know. And, like you, I would have flipped the switch once those two minutes were up."

"The needs of the many..."

"Don't start quoting _Star Trek_ on me now," Sheppard said, and it almost made Rodney laugh. "You all right?"

"I think so," Rodney replied with a sigh. His stomach finally decided to settle down and he wasn't going to argue.

Sheppard helped him to his feet, helped him strip down to his boxers, helped him get into bed, sitting next to him. "Christ, McKay, this bed is like a piece of plywood."

"I have a bad back," Rodney said, too exhausted to be snippy.

"Probably from sleeping on this bed." Sheppard chuckled then caressed Rodney's face. It was the sweetest, most tender thing Sheppard had ever done to him and Rodney's heart clenched. 

He'd long since figured out he was in love with John Sheppard. He wasn't a genius for nothing, and though he might not like examining his own feelings, he knew he needed to do it. Thing was, Major John Sheppard wasn't in love with him. He cared for Rodney, but Rodney was fairly certain it was only out of friendship and teamwork -- Sheppard cared for his whole team and took responsibility for them, just as they did to him. And it was probably never going to be more than that and the occasional sexual workout, for them, anyway.

Sheppard smiled at Rodney and turned the lights down. "Get some sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." He made as if to rise.

"Stay?" The word was out before Rodney could censor it, before he could stop it. "Sorry. I'm... Never mind."

It was dark in the room so Rodney couldn't see Sheppard's face clearly, but Sheppard didn't rise. He didn't speak, either, and Rodney was glad it was dark so Sheppard couldn't see his face. Suddenly, Sheppard moved -- he took off his jacket, then he kicked off his boots and pulled his BDUs off, leaving everything on the floor. "Scootch over," he murmured, then climbed in behind Rodney, tucking Rodney's body close against his in a way that was purely gentle, loving and proprietary and Rodney hated it, wished he could now rescind the request. He might never get this again and knowing what it was like was going to be torture. 

"If I get a backache from sleeping on this crappy bed, it'll be your fault," Sheppard groused, but Rodney could tell he was teasing. 

"I'll rub it out for you," he mumbled. Before he could think, he was asleep.

* * *

The return to Atlantis without Gaul and Abrams was the longest fifteen hours of his life, Rodney was absolutely positive of that. Sheppard kept trying to get him to rest, to lie down in the back of the jumper and sleep, but he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gaul's face, or Gaul's head, disintegrated into a mass of blood and gore. It was enough to keep him from closing his eyes.

"If you're not going to rest, then I am," Sheppard said quietly. 

Rodney glanced over at him. The guy looked like a bloody, filthy mess. He winced when he took a deep breath and the bandage around his upper arm -- which Rodney had changed using clean bandages from the jumper's med kit -- was spotted with new blood. "I'm good. I'm just going to leave it on auto."

"Okay." Sheppard stayed where he was, sitting in the co-pilot's chair. Rodney presumed Sheppard was looking at him, but wouldn't turn to confirm it. "Wake me up if you need me," he said, unnecessarily.

"Yeah." The stars were very pretty out the forward screen, but they didn't streak past, like they always did on _Star Trek_. It was a little disappointing.

"Rodney."

"Yeah?"

"You did good back there." 

Rodney turned finally and frowned at Sheppard. "What?"

"You did everything right. Everything. You need to know that. And you need to know that I didn't, I mean, I wasn't trying to break, you know, our agreement." Sheppard was looking at him earnestly and a little nervously.

Rodney shook his head. "No, I know." And he did know; he understood Sheppard so much better now. Brendan Gaul had been depending on him and Rodney had let him down. How much harder could it be for Sheppard, who had literally dozens of lives depending on him all the time? A big part of Rodney wanted to be punished for what happened to Gaul, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. He _knew_ it wasn't his fault. 

But he felt guilty nonetheless. 

He carried that guilt for a long time, through another dozen or more missions, only slowly letting it go as time passed. And he noticed while Sheppard didn't seem to need their 'sessions' as much as he had, he would watch Rodney with far more care, would defer to his knowledge with less of a fight than he had in the past. Teyla noticed it; he caught her looking between him and Sheppard with a frown on more than one occasion. Ford seemed oblivious but that was nothing new.

It wasn't until much later that Rodney realized a little bit of his innocence had died with Gaul. Brendan had been right, Rodney was changing, had changed. He'd intended on anchoring Sheppard to the present, to the people who needed him and as a side-effect, he'd picked up a better understanding of why Sheppard wanted what he wanted, needed what he seemed to need. Bit by bit, he was solving the puzzle of Major John Sheppard. Now, though, he wondered if that puzzle had room for him in it.

* * *

"So long, Rodney." 

Rodney was so exhausted, so at the end of his rope, he didn't even hear Sheppard's words properly. He was so utterly whipped he couldn't even tell what Sheppard was doing as he leapt from the command chair and raced out, towards the stairs which would take him to the jumper bay. Couldn't tell until the words sank in.

"So long, Rodney."

"Major!" he screamed, but it was far too late, Sheppard was gone, he was going to pilot a jumper carrying a fucking atomic bomb right into the mouth of a Wraith ship and blow it and himself to kingdom come and it wasn't _right_... they had a _deal_ , dammit, Sheppard wouldn't do stupid suicidal things any more!

It took Rodney long, precious seconds to get his body to move, to follow where Sheppard had gone. When he got to the command tower, Elizabeth stood there, staring at the stairs which led to the jumper bay, looking almost as anguished as he felt. It still didn't sink in, though, didn't completely break through his exhaustion that Sheppard was...

Elizabeth, Carson and Rodney stood in the command center, watched as Major John Sheppard was finally able to offer up his life for his teammates, for his city, and all Rodney felt was fury, hand in hand with profound exhaustion. He wanted to scream at Sheppard through the radio, wanted to find a way to drag him back down to Atlantis and smack some sense into him. 

"You know, if this works, someone might have to do this again," he heard Sheppard say, and then heard Elizabeth say "Understood," and Rodney decided then and there he'd fly second damn jumper himself, if only to follow Sheppard into the afterlife to kick his pasty, white ass.

He watched in horror as the jumper got closer and finally had to turn to Elizabeth. "Why did you let Sheppard fly that jumper?" He asked, but she just turned away. He knew why. Sheppard and his goddamn martyr complex. What did he think he was accomplishing?

On autopilot, he entered his command code for the self-destruct. He couldn't look her in the eye, not and keep from screaming. Everything they had planned for was gone. Everything he had planned for... it was all gone.

The arrival of the Daedalus was almost anticlimactic. Rodney was well past exhaustion by then and moving into a zombie state (at least zombies ate human brains so he'd be able to eat, assuming he could _find_ any human brains), so hearing John's voice seemed perfectly natural. Of course, Major Sheppard would be the one who could radio them from purgatory, or wherever the hell he ended up. But no, it was really him, and it was really a ZedPM, and it was really Teyla, whom everyone thought dead too, who helped him get the shield up and running.

All he wanted to do was eat and collapse, not necessarily in that order, but he couldn't. Well, he did eat, he ate a sandwich thrown together out of leftovers found in the mess hall (under Teyla's watchful eyes), but he couldn't sleep, even with her in his locked quarters. Something was wrong, he'd forgotten something or hadn't done something right and it niggled at him until he was just about mad with wondering what it was. 

"Teyla! There you are. Do you know -- oh. There he is."

Oh. That was it. It was Sheppard, he's what he was forgetting.

"Yes, Major, Dr. McKay needs to sleep but there are Wraith still in the city--"

Her words were cut off by Sheppard embracing her, to her surprise and Rodney's and apparently even Sheppard's. "Weir said she thought you were dead," Sheppard said, his voice thick. "Go tell her she was wrong."

"I already did that," Rodney protested, but they ignored him, sharing a look. 

Sheppard closed and secured the door after she left. "Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not." Rodney all but fell on his bed and put his head in his hands. "I've been up for God knows how long, because I lost count several days ago. I've been attacked, shot at, screamed at, forced to do things no one should ever do, and oh, yeah, had to watch as my lover tried to blow himself up with an A-bomb! I am _not_ okay!" 

By the time Rodney had finished shouting, John was crouched down at his feet, holding his wrists in a gentle grip. "I'm here, I'm alive," he began, but Rodney was still too filled with anger to let him speak.

"We had a damn deal, Major! You would stop with the fucking suicide runs and I--"

"I had to, Rodney, I had no choice."

"What were you hoping to accomplish? They still would have come, still would have destroyed the city!"

"I was hoping to buy you and Elizabeth a little more time. I knew the Daedalus was coming, I wanted to buy us more time."

"Time bought with your death? That's not acceptable, Major!" Suddenly the tide of his anger flowed out, and since it was all which had been sustaining him, he collapsed. John caught him as he slid off the bed, settled him virtually on his lap, cradled him and held him tightly. "Not acceptable," Rodney repeated, fighting back tears of pain and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Rodney, I'm sorry, I had to do it," John murmured into his hair. "I promise I'll never do it again. I promise."

"Liar." Rodney breathed in deeply, took John's sour-sweat and fear smell and cherished it, because he'd thought he'd never smell it again and he wanted to remember it this time.

They sat on the floor for several long moments until Sheppard shifted and grimaced. "Rodney, let's get you up on the bed. You're too heavy to sit on my lap."

"Oh. Sorry." It took their combined strength to get him on the bed and he stubbed his toe on Sheppard's P-90 in the process, but finally he was horizontal. Not that he was any closer to sleep, but still.

"I just spoke with Colonel Everett," Sheppard said. He sat on the bed behind Rodney's head, letting Rodney use him as a pillow. 

"He's still alive too?" Gee, everybody was still alive. Rodney figured it must be a good thing.

"Yes, he's still alive. Barely. Got hit by a Wraith, took..." Sheppard swallowed hard, "...it took several years off him."

"God. That sucks."

"Yeah. Go to sleep, Rodney."

"Can't. Too many things to do. Too wired."

"Elizabeth said she'd given you the rest of the day off. There'll be another crisis in the morning. Sleep now."

Rodney looked up at Sheppard's face, which was upside down to him. For some reason that made sense. "I don't think I can," he mumbled, once again fighting off tears. God, he was so exhausted.

Sheppard smiled. It was the sweetest smile Rodney had ever seen on his face and it was directed at him. "Then let your lover help you."

His lover? Oh, yes, he called John his lover earlier. He thought. He might have dreamed it.

But he wasn't dreaming this. John began peeling him out of his clothing, gently and carefully, tossing each item into a pile on the floor. Rodney was surprised they didn't stand up on their own, hardened by sweat and fear. When Rodney was naked, John smiled and leaned down to kiss him. 

Rodney just melted under the kiss, one just like he'd always wanted. John's lips were warm and tasted good and made Rodney feel good and cherished and just good. Then John's hand fell on Rodney's dick and he moaned as it began to fill. 

"That's it," John murmured, taking his lips away from Rodney's. Then he moved down and began to gently fellate Rodney, using no subtle touches, just an honest kindness with no apparent thought of reciprocity in the touch. He brought Rodney quickly to the point of no return and gently helped Rodney over it, swallowing his come, sending him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It wasn't until later, after Radek had wakened him from too little sleep, that Rodney realized it was the first time Sheppard had voluntarily kissed him.

* * *

Life just would not settle down. There were times when Rodney yearned for a nine to five job, for the boring and metronomic life of a tenured professor. Then he usually started laughing hysterically at himself and went back to work.

Many things were resolved, now. The Wraith were (temporarily) set aside, a worry for another day. Atlantis had a shield, for what it was worth, and the Daedalus making regular runs out to the Pegasus galaxy meant many things would be happening... like almost unlimited coffee. It was the little things about Earth he missed most -- for the most part, Atlantis had already become home.

And there was Major -- no, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard to contemplate. He'd changed, again, after the siege and after he'd been promoted. Of course, a lot of the change was a basic insufferableness over _being_ promoted, but Rodney hoped that would change in time. They hadn't had sex since Sheppard had given him a blow job to put him to sleep and Rodney found himself missing it, dreadfully. 

More than the sex, he just missed being with Sheppard. With John. Sometimes it was so hard to divorce the man from the job, from the title, and their having sex seemed make it easier. He wasn't sure why, but it was something he knew down to his toes.

Of course, they couldn't do anything aboard the Daedalus, too may prying eyes. And when they finally got back to Atlantis, there were too many things to do, too many things to see to, to check over, to yell and talk about and it wasn't until they'd been back nearly a week before Rodney felt they'd settled down, settled back in. That life had become what passed for 'normal' in the Pegasus galaxy once again.

At the end of a frustrating day, Rodney made his way to his quarters determined to hit himself over the head with something large and heavy if he had to. Radek had been difficult. So had Carson and a few others, baby scientists, new to Atlantis, who thought they could get the same results in the same ways and had to be disabused of those notions, sometimes violently. 

He was ready for bed, ready to crash and burn, so why did he find himself going to Sheppard's quarters instead of his own? But he was, and when he knocked, he found himself face to face with the man who had been driving him crazy for over a year.

Sheppard stood in his doorway, looking a little surprised to see Rodney standing there. He was dressed in the same ratty sweats Rodney remembered seeing frequently, though this time he had a black t-shirt on. "McKay?"

"Hi. Um..." Now that he was there, Rodney didn't have the least idea what to say. 

Luckily, Sheppard saved him. "You want to come in? I've got a couple of beers left."

"LaBatt's?"

"What else?"

"Well, okay."

Problem was Sheppard's new quarters, while a little larger than his old ones, were still small and there was really no place to sit save his bed. He'd added a few little things too, more personal items from Earth, just as Rodney had done. It made Rodney relax in an odd way to see them, made him think both of them were in for the long haul.

The beer was cold and good and Rodney said so.

"Yeah, I've got a req in for a case with every run of the Daedalus."

"You do not."

"I do too." Sheppard grinned, the lopsided grin that had never before reached his eyes, but did now. "It was rejected, of course, but I have my methods. I can pull rank now."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, all hail Colonel Sheppard."

"Getting a little old, is it?"

"A bit!"

"Sorry." He didn't sound the least sorry, though; he sounded more gleeful. "So."

"Yeah."

They sat, side by side on Sheppard's bed, not speaking for a while, each lost in his own thoughts. Or so Rodney assumed; sometimes he wondered if Sheppard _had_ thoughts. Then Sheppard nudged him with his shoulder. "So, would you like to find out how it feels to fuck a lieutenant colonel?"

And suddenly, Rodney was furiously, blazingly angry. He jumped to his feet and rounded on Sheppard. "No, I do not!" he shouted. "Goddammit, Sheppard, what do you want from me?"

Sheppard looked almost devastated at his outburst, surprised and hurt. He couldn't speak for a long moment, but when he did, his voice was soft. "Only what you're willing to give, Rodney." He looked down at the bottle he held, picking idly at the label. "It can go back to being like it was, if that's what you want... or not. It doesn't have to be like it was."

"No, it doesn't." As suddenly as he became angry, he lost it, weariness taking its place. "Not if you don't want it to."

"What?" Sheppard looked thoroughly confused and Rodney had another flash of insight -- two in a year, alert the media, he thought, I'm on a roll.

"What do you want out of us, John?" He asked, taking his life, his sanity, in his hands. 

Sheppard took his time to reply, and when he did, it was very soft. "I wasn't sure there was an us."

"There can be."

"Really?" Sheppard looked almost exactly like a dog whipped one too many times and Rodney had to turn away from the naked emotion playing across John's face. 

"John..." Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose before turning back. "I don't want to know what it's like to fuck a lieutenant colonel, John." They both swallowed. "But I would like to find out what it's like to make love to one. One in specific, actually."

If anything John's face was more confused. "Rodney, I'm not--"

"Yes you are," Rodney said with asperity. "Christ, John. Fuck me already."

John looked back down at his hands, the fingers of which were still picking at the label. "Rodney, I..."

"Goddamned stupid jock." Rodney stalked back to Sheppard, pulled his bottle out of his hands and put it and his own on a nearby table. Then he took John's head in his hands and kissed him.

And it was their first time all over again, except everything was different. John didn't try to fight him, didn't grapple madly or clutch at him as if he were the only water in a desert. No, John just barely reacted, let Rodney take the lead, let Rodney remove both their shirts and let Rodney push them horizontal. But when Rodney put his hand over John's crotch, he found a different tale. With a needy noise, Rodney tried to push the sweats down but John stopped him.

"Rodney." When Rodney ignored him, John took his hand and turned them, pushed and rolled them until he was on top, holding Rodney down. "Rodney!"

"What?!"

"Listen to me. I... I need to tell you--"

"You need to tell me nothing! I'm not going to go through all this shit again, Sheppard, once was more than enough!" Rodney was as hard as John was, was relishing John being on top of him, holding him tightly. He'd been on top for far too long and it was getting old. He wanted to be fucked, dammit.

"Listen to me, you jerk! I've got to tell you something!"

Rodney stilled himself, every muscle rigid and trembling from frustration and need. "Fine. What."

John sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes briefly and Rodney had a minor heart attack. "God, you're hard to shut up." Rodney opened his mouth to yell something but John covered it with his own, kissed him so deeply and so completely he might as well have been inserted into Rodney's skin. When he broke the kiss and when Rodney opened his eyes (dazed, they must have been dazed, he was dazed), he saw John smiling gently down at him and it was that smile, the one Rodney saw when John had said, "Let your lover help you," it was the same one. "I get it," John murmured through the smile.

Whatever Rodney had been expecting, it was not that. "Huh?" he said, articulate to the last.

"I get it. I'm not good at all this stuff, this 'us' stuff. You were right all along, it was sick, but I don't..." He sighed. The smile faded and the shadows returned to his eyes. "Relationship crap. It's all weird to me and I've never had to... But I get it. I need you to know. I get it, what you did, _why_ you did it, I really get it." he trailed off and his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin that, this time, met his eyes. "I... Would it be really stupid if I said 'I love you?'"

For the first time in his life, words completely abandoned Rodney McKay. He'd been mostly expecting to have to beg, plead, cajole, threaten, hit over the head to make his point and he didn't have to? He'd been all geared up for a big fight and now... now John Sheppard had taken all the wind from his sails. "Yeah," he said, floundering. "It would be." John was smiling again and the shadows were gone, all gone, and Rodney resolved to do anything he could to keep them gone. 

"Then I'd better not say it," John said.

"Yeah." 

"You'd better not say it either, then," John murmured, leaning down again.

"Say what?"

"I love you."

"Oh. That."

"Yeah." Then John's lips were on his and damn if it wasn't the best thing, and then some. 

They just kissed, for what seemed like hours. He'd never been able to cuddle or kiss John and he'd wanted to so. Now he had the chance, he was going to take it. The only trouble appeared to be both of them wanted to enjoy it, and both of them wanted to do everything to each other, simultaneously. 

Lips, tongue, teeth; their kisses slowly grew hotter and nastier as they re-familiarized themselves with territory at once familiar and strange. They rolled from one side to the other and John finally cradled Rodney's head in his hands to go really deep, really nasty. Rodney would have moaned except it was hard to make noise with John's tongue halfway down his throat and there was no way he wanted it removed. 

Coming up for air, Rodney realized they were humping against each other, slowly grinding their bodies into powder and it felt good, but he knew how to make it feel better. Still kissing, he let his hands skim down John's warm back and tugged at the sweatpants, tried to push them down so he could feel all of John, all he could reach anyway. John apparently thought that was a good idea because he started reaching for Rodney's pants, which unfortunately were button and zipper. They turned, faces still attached at the mouth, struggling to get clothing undone and with a thump, fell off the bed and landed on the floor.

Rodney was going to have a spectacular bruise on his hip and John got the air almost knocked out of him, but they just had to laugh, had to start kissing each other again as they rolled on the floor (much better, more space!) pushing and pulling clothing off and down. John had gone commando under the sweats and when Rodney realized that, it just made the whole situation hotter.

Finally, they were naked and plastered together so tightly not even a beam of light could get through. Rodney had both hands on John's ass and was pulling it even closer, kneading John's backside and John had one hand on Rodney's head and the other was running up and down his flank, and they were on the _floor_ and it was ridiculous. Rodney rolled them a bit, which trapped one of his hands around John but it was okay, they were still touching and that's what was important. John released his head and reached between them to capture two very hard cocks in one warm hand and Rodney groaned and came, hard.

He couldn't keep kissing John and still breathe sufficiently so he wrenched his mouth away. "Oh, God... oh God..." the aftershocks were tearing through him, making him weak. 

Letting go of his own dick, John nursed Rodney's, smearing his spunk everywhere. "I love watching you come," he whispered in Rodney's ear. "Feeling you come... you're so damn hot when you come..."

"Oh, Christ..." Rodney was still shaking. "Want to feel you come," he mumbled, tilting his head so John could rub his stubble over Rodney's neck. 

"Want to come for you," John whispered back and shuddered.

"Inside me. Get inside me, now now now..."

John's hand was covered with come and he moved it over Rodney's ass, down into his crack, moving almost tentatively. When he found the entrance to Rodney's body, he used one finger to rub it and circle around it. Rodney groaned and tried to thrust back, tried to get that finger to breach him. "C'mon, c'mon..." he muttered as John kept lightly and gently fingering him.

"I don't..."

"John, please..."

"I don't know _how_ ," John blurted. His face was red but whether it was from lust or embarrassment... well, it didn't matter.

Rodney closed his eyes and started laughing. It figured, John had never been on top and if Rodney hadn't laughed, he would have sobbed in pain for John. When he managed to stop, John was frowning at him. "I'm sorry," he said, "you just... it just caught me as funny. Do what I do to you, only, you know, gentler."

"I..."

"Where's the lube?" 

"Up there," John replied, and they decided they'd better move back to the bed. 

Just getting disentangled was fun, though John had to help Rodney, he was still shaky. They got on the bed and John turned to open the drawer for a tube of lubrication while Rodney got on his hands and knees, the best position for him. When John turned around, Rodney heard him gasp, and felt his shaky hands on Rodney's ass.

"If you don't hurry..."

"I just..." John swallowed hard and ran his hands over Rodney's buttocks. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, I'm sure, would you _please_..."

"Okay okay, I'm... okay," and shortly, finally, one of John's fingers pushed inside Rodney.

"Oh, God yes..." It felt so _good_ , so hot, and hearing John's shaky breathing and feeling John's finger inside and feeling John's other hand running up and down his back, it was what he'd been missing and oh, God, it was just right.

John took his time, kept asking for advice ("Is that enough? Do you want more?" hell yes, he wanted more, he wanted it _all_ ) and kept making random comments ("It's so _tight_ , God Rodney, you're so _tight_ ") until Rodney was ready to kill and his cock was at full mast again. Finally John slicked a condom on and moved behind Rodney, began pushing inside.

And it was tight, because John was so hard and big but Rodney loved it. He began to shake almost as hard as John was, setting up harmonic vibrations that should have been picked up on the sensors but thank God they weren't. When John was all the way in, he stopped, just stopped, resting his forehead on Rodney's back, his arms wrapped around Rodney's chest and breathing like he was dying, big gulps of air. Rodney could feel his channel fight to accommodate John and even though there was a bit of discomfort (it had been a long time), it was good. Not even the bit of pain he felt could make his erection go away, because it was _John_ and John was finally inside him. All the way.

Then John leaned back and took Rodney with him, until Rodney was straddling his legs and it drove John's dick even deeper so Rodney could feel it in his heart, it was so deep. He let his head fall back on John's shoulder and John turned to bite and lick his throat, then John took Rodney's cock in one slick hand and began to pump.

John didn't even have to move. It was that perfect. And when Rodney finally came, again, so hard he thought he would die of it, John came with him, joined and done and _right_. They were going to be okay, they were going to be okay and together and _right_ , _equal_ , and Rodney never even remembered the moment he blacked out, still connected, still joined, all right and proper and... and... 

Equals. Finally.

* * *

"I don't care if it's a second coming or even a fully-charged ZedPM, you are not going alone!"

"C'mon McKay, what use is it to put a whole team--"

"Because it's damn dangerous, that's why!"

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat, it's perfectly safe, Teyla--"

"Teyla hasn't been there since the Wraith were awakened! You don't know the people--"

"It's Ford, okay? It's a line on Ford and I--"

"No, you don't! I don't care if it's a good line, and don't you think we want Ford back too?"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"No buts! Elizabeth. Back me up here."

Rodney turned to Dr. Weir who was sitting at the head of the table with a bemused expression on her face. "Oh, I don't know, Rodney, you seem to be holding your own pretty well," she said.

"Dr. McKay has a point, Colonel Sheppard. With the cullings going on, we do not know--"

"Oh come on, Teyla, who's side are you on, anyway?"

"She's on the side of rationality, Colonel, and you are outvoted." Rodney crossed his arms and gave Sheppard his best 'you are screwed and I helped' smirks.

"Outvoted outschmoded, I'm ranking military--"

"And I'm your boss," Elizabeth interjected. "You go with your team. Take Lorne with you as well."

"Elizabeth!"

"John!" She looked between the two of them then glanced at Teyla; the look they shared was one Rodney couldn't quite decipher and wasn't sure he wanted to. "Final word, Colonel. You and your team are cleared for a mission in an hour, which should correspond to sunup on the planet."

Sheppard sighed gustily and rolled his eyes. "This is all your fault," he said to Rodney as they all stood.

"Uh-huh," Rodney said, grinning.

Teyla had already left and Elizabeth had made it to the doors when she paused and turned. "I meant to tell you, I'm glad you two worked out your differences. I think we've already seen an improvement in mission outcome. Thank you."

Sheppard turned to Rodney and they just stared at each other, then Sheppard smiled. It was that new smile, the one he only gave to Rodney, and it made Rodney want to grab the man and haul him down to the nearest horizontal surface and fuck him silly every time he saw it.

"Yeah. We're good," Sheppard said, smiling.

Rodney just smiled helplessly back. They certainly were.

end


End file.
